<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Under the Moonlit Sky by MivLiv</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219332">Under the Moonlit Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MivLiv/pseuds/MivLiv'>MivLiv</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldur's Gate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MivLiv/pseuds/MivLiv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the tieflings' party Astarion thinks he knows what to expect, but as the night progresses he finds himself perpetually left off-balance by the strange charm of his companion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Under the Moonlit Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An alternative party scene, preserving some in-game dialogue.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night itself was pleasant enough, Astarion thought, sipping slowly from a bottle of wine. Warm, but not too humid, the fire casting a warm glow over the campsite. Said campsite was however now filled to the brim with drunk tiefling refugees, which did little for his mood. It wasn’t the tieflings themselves, he supposed, although they were an altogether naïve bunch if they thought Baldur’s Gate would be much better for them than Elturel. It was the cheerful conversation, the uncoordinated dancing, the… joy. He could feel the word dripping like venom in his mind. He had no idea what to do with himself around them and no amount of snide humour seemed to help.</p>
<p>He took another miserable swig of wine, then he saw her walk in his direction, having just slid out of a hectic group dance with the tieflings. The <em>other</em> tieflings, he thoughts, as his eyes moved from the back-turned horns on her forehead to her swishing tail. They were unusual sights on their coincidental leader, who generally sported a thick black hooded cloak, which engulfed most of her features. He had not caught on to her demonic heritage until they arrived at the grove and she’d revealed her horns to gain the tieflings’ trust. Her ashen skin and lithe figure had led him to assume she was a drow, albeit a peculiarly friendly one. Not that he was complaining, given she’d caught him as he was about to take a knife to her throat. Once he believed she was a dark elf, assuming she would be pretty was almost a given. So, when upon their return to camp that night, their then-new companion Wyll had launched in a righteous speech about how her kind had nothing to be ashamed of and Gale good-naturedly pointed out that familiarity bred trust, Astarion had remained close by, observing them with subtle curiosity. Seemingly convinced, she had jokingly reintroduced herself to their companions, with her true name this time, Nowhere. A strange name, they had thought, but she had shrugged it off, saying that sort of name was common for tieflings where she came from. Personally, he preferred Vaeryn, but that was neither here nor there, so he had kept quiet. As she moved to remove her hood, he noted that he had not been wrong. She was pretty, but more than that she was… striking. Her was not the tailored, subdued beauty of drows, carefully sculpted out of onyx and ash. Against dark skin, her hair was aflame, thick copper braids wrapped tightly around her head, and her eyes shone white with unnatural light. It had been a surprise then, but now, as she moved gracefully from one group to another, at ease in her movements in a way he had not seen her before, she was a sight to behold.</p>
<p>He was sufficiently lost in his musings that he almost missed her walk past him. At the last minute, he spoke up, drawing her attention.</p>
<p>“You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” he paused slightly, sipping his wine and checking her attention was in fact on him “I hate it. This is awful.”</p>
<p>She laughed slightly at that, amusement in her voice as she asked, “Really? Saving lives is awful?”. Her question came off light and airy, with no hint of judgement behind her words. She was alone in that, Astarion thought, not casting judgement upon him at every opportunity. Their other companions seemed to have him pegged for one thing or another – wild beast, cold-hearted murderer, weakling. Conveniently whichever aspect of him they would dislike most. As for her, he wasn’t sure what she thought of him. An opportunity to find out perhaps, he thought as he answered as seriously as he could muster.</p>
<p>“We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of life didn’t change much. But what do I get for all my hard work? A pat on the head and vinegar for wine.” He was as disparaging of the beverage as he could and yet she still leaned in to swiftly remove the bottle from his hand and take a sip. He would have been offended that she did not trust his judgement, except he knew that, for whatever reason, she did. She had trusted him enough to let him drink her blood not a week ago. His eyes drifted slightly towards her neck as he remembered. Her skin had been warm and soft and so had she. Her blood had been rich and refreshing and he had been far too close to losing himself in it. But he had stopped and that was all that mattered. So he had told her then and so he told himself ever since. His thoughts returned to the red wine in her hand.</p>
<p>“See what I mean? Awful. All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”</p>
<p>“That had better not mean ‘I want to kill something’” she eyed him in fake suspicion as she returned his bottle. There it was, he thought. His opening, his opportunity to shift this conversation onto more <em>fun</em> things. He wondered how she would take to his flirting, even as the line fell from his lips.</p>
<p>“Nothing so dramatic. Just you and me and – well, maybe a little death? Figuratively speaking.”</p>
<p>He saw a bit of colour rise to her cheeks, even as she laughed his comment off. Not completely opposed then. That was really all he needed.</p>
<p>“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”</p>
<p>She seemed surprised at his boldness, her face darkening further. She didn’t stop laughing though, even as she answered.</p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll see you later then.”</p>
<p>“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” He put on his most seductive voice, trying to fill it with all the unspoken promise a night could hold. She raised an eyebrow at the term of endearment but smiled widely nonetheless and he thought her eyes shone brighter for an instant before she turned away.</p>
<p>He met her later at the edge of the camp. She was leaning against a tree, looking up at the sky and humming. He could surprise her, he thought, encase her, have her. It would be so easy. Perhaps that was what stopped him, or perhaps the proximity of the others. Regardless, he continued walking openly towards her, making no effort to disguise his presence. He knew she heard him, yet she made no move to acknowledge him until he was an armlength away.</p>
<p>“Beautiful night isn’t it?” she asked casually, not looking away from the starry sky. There was a rhythm to her words, a cadence that matched her previous humming. She had a melodious voice, a requirement he supposed for a bard, but the way she managed to bring musicality to the simplest statements was impressive. He thought that if one spoke to her for long enough, they may start thinking life was altogether poetic. What a silly notion…</p>
<p>He hummed slightly in approval as she finally looked at him.</p>
<p>“I’ve never figured out where this little stream comes from. Shall we follow it for a while?” she asked, already turning her back to him and walking towards the water’s edge. If it was an excuse to get further away from camp, it was deliciously coy. A smirk found its way to his lips as he followed silently behind her. As they made their way deeper into the woods, he began to worry that she was earnestly following the stream. She barely acknowledged his presence, beyond periodically checking that he was following and otherwise seemed to be almost walking in a daze, softly humming a sad song to herself. They must have been going for at least twenty minutes when he decided to break the silence.</p>
<p>“As much as I appreciate some distance from all the drunk tieflings, darling, just how far are we going? All the way to the source?” His voice was a carefully curated mix of distaste and sarcastic curiosity. It seemed to shake her out of her thoughts and she stopped and half-turned to him.</p>
<p>“I think they’re wonderful, actually. These tieflings.” He felt bitter, almost jealous at her words, but the readied quip died on his lips as she smiled softly at him. The moonlight bathed her in a pale glow, like a magical aura enveloping her. It must have been a trick of the light, but it felt almost like a spell had been cast and all he could manage was a vaguely inquisitive “Oh?”.</p>
<p>“They’re trying to make a better life for themselves. They’ve been hounded, cast out from their homes, but they haven’t forgotten how to be happy, how to embrace life as it comes, how to find beauty and joy in short moments of peace. Seeing them would bring a smile to the lips of the Dark Maiden herself.”</p>
<p>Ah yes, she was, as often slipped his mind, a follower of Eilistraee, drow goddess of outcasts and artists. The choice had made sense when he thought her a drow and it suited her well regardless, he supposed. Beyond Nowhere’s soft heart and soft eyes and soft smiles, there was something strong and unbending. He caught glimpses of it sometimes, when they were in danger, when she was angered, when she had to fight. She was a survivor at heart and Eilistraee was their goddess too, after all. Their little trek upstream suddenly made more sense.</p>
<p>“Is that what we’re doing now, then? Searching for beauty to please Eilistraee?” his tone was teasing, but almost to his own surprise, not snide. Slight embarrassment bloomed on her face as she looked away before answering.</p>
<p>“I suppose. It wasn’t meant to be, but I saw the path and it just seemed right. Like it was beckoning to be walked. Do you mind?” her voice was shy as she asked, throwing him a sideways glance. It wasn’t what he had expected, certainly not his idea of fun. But somehow, in the moment, he couldn’t really say he minded.</p>
<p>“Depends on what sort of thing the goddess finds pleasing, darling.” he almost purred as he walked up to her. “I would really rather not go looking for more refugees to help, especially not at this time of night.” She laughed next to him, louder than he expected.</p>
<p>“Oh, she enjoys a great many things. Music, nature, laughter,” she looked pointedly at him as she said it, “freedom, love. Helping others, too, of course. But I don’t think that’s where the path leads tonight.”</p>
<p>“Well, at least some of those things I will happily partake in. Shall we?” he extended his hand to her without thinking. By the look she gave him, she took it with as little thought. It was done now, he thought, and it would be ungentlemanly to let go, but what foolishness this evening was turning into. He thought he knew what to expect, he was not unfamiliar with encounters born out of drunken parties after all. He had basically made a living out of them, he thought bitterly. But as they walked hand in hand along the stream, he felt lost, the night unmapped before him. He might still win this game, but the path to victory was uncertain. There was a thrill to that.</p>
<p>They didn’t have much further to walk, as the path opened into a small glade with a short waterfall as the river flowed over a sharp edge. Not quite the source, but definitely beautiful. Nowhere let go of Astarion’s hand and wandered into the clearing, eyes scanning her surroundings carefully.</p>
<p>“This is…the moon, the stream, the trees…perfect.” she whispered and Astarion got the feeling the words weren’t meant for him, but he replied anyway.</p>
<p>“A little sunlight would do it good” he said. “As it does most things…” A touch of wistfulness slipped into his voice before he could cover it up. He had missed the sun so greatly; he could not imagine perfection in its absence.</p>
<p>“It would be charming, I’m sure. But daylight is so harsh sometimes, brings out all our imperfections…” That was true, he supposed. Walking in the sun again had definitely reminded him of all his flaws, all his habits that had no place in polite society, all the crimes he should perhaps feel guilty for. A change of subject, that was what they needed.</p>
<p>“Well, we have no choice then but to remain here until morning. Find out who was right. Whatever shall we do to fill the time, darling?” He caught up with her again, something predatorial in his step, even as his posture remained relaxed.</p>
<p>When she faced him, the light in her eyes was twinkling, amused, flirty even.</p>
<p>“Well,” she said, moving to take off the backpack she had brought along, “a place such as this is wasted if one does not match its beauty in joy. So why not have our own little party? No refugees, I gather they’re not your sort of crowd, but some music? Dance? Wine that is not quite vinegar yet?” she asked, pulling a bottle out of the bag as she let it fall to the ground. The look she gave him was inviting, but he couldn’t help the feeling that she’d yet again slipped through his fingers. Letting his disappointment be seen would only lose him the game, although he was increasingly uncertain whether she was playing at all.</p>
<p>“I would happily share a bottle of decent wine, although whether this is it is yet to be seen. As for music, it seems, alas, we are out of luck. Unless you’d like to perform for us.”</p>
<p>“Hmm, maybe later. For now, I think this should do the trick.” He heard her whisper something under her breath and the glade was filled with soft music. He recognised it as one of the songs that had played at the party. “Now, will you dance with me before the spell ends?” she asked, a finality in her voice that left no room for rebuttal. Not that he would have wanted to deny her, Astarion thought, as he took one of her hands in his and rested the other on her waist. As he moved to spin them around in time with the music, he felt like he hadn’t danced in years. Untrue, of course, he had been dancing his way through some noble’s party in search of prey for Cazador not a fortnight ago. But somehow this felt new. Perhaps it was the lack of impending murder in the air, or the more pragmatic lack of set steps. Perhaps it was that rather than focussing on a job he had to do fast and well lest he suffer consequences, he could focus on his dance partner. He could focus on her hands, warm and thin, her nails scraping slightly against his shoulder. His eyes shifted to her hair, tied up in complex braids which wrapped tightly around her head. Exquisite work, but he could not help but wonder what it would look like free.</p>
<p>“Has anyone ever told you your hair is spectacular? It’s almost a crime to keep it tied up and hidden away like that.” His tone was filled with joking accusation as he moved to twirl her away from him.</p>
<p>She laughed, throwing her head back slightly into the motion. “Well, showing it off is definitely a death wish in Menzoberranzan, so compromises had to be made.” From all he knew of the drow city, he had to agree. They did not look kindly on outsiders, or those who didn’t fit in. But what would she have been doing there? A question for later, he thought, for now his focus firmly on her hair.</p>
<p>“Well, I think you’re just about far enough away now that you might get away with it. May I?” he asked as one of his hands moved from her back to gently tangle in the braids. Her eyes fixed on his as she nodded, moving her arms to circle his waist as his second hand joined the quest to undo the complicated patterns in her hair. They kept swaying as he worked, although he realised in the silence that the music had stopped. He wasn’t sure what rhythm they were following now but felt no desire to stop. His hands finally found the tie holding everything together and removed it from her hair, before gently running his fingers through it to untangle all the braids. The hair was smooth and soft, and he had to stop himself from combing through it again. Instead, he moved his hands to rest on her shoulders and stared at her, a breath caught in his chest. Long coppery strands framed her face, flowing down to the middle of her back. The base of her horns remained lost among the locks and the tips of her ears peaked slightly through.</p>
<p>“Beautiful…” like most things he had said tonight, the word escaped his lips without thought. She smiled and pulled slightly away from him, tilting her head back and shaking out her hair. His eyes fell on her exposed neck and hunger surged through him. However, the feeling was strangely foreign, almost like it belonged to another. Where most nights it took every bit his willpower not to submit to the hunger as it struck, now he could just ignore it, push it to the back of his mind, where <em>something</em> pulled a thick veil over it and it lay mostly forgotten. The tadpole, perhaps? The presence in his mind felt gentler than usual, but he would not waste the time exploring it. Instead, he allowed his attention to shift to the abandoned wine bottle and he pulled himself away from Nowhere to pick it up. “Well, it seems the time for dancing has passed. So how about that drink?” he walked slowly to settle with his back against a tree, before uncorking the bottle. “And I guess I’ll… bite, my dear. You pretend to be a drow, worship a drow goddess and have apparently spent too much time in one of their cities… Now why would you do that?”.</p>
<p>She looked at him, apparently surprised that he would question her. “Well, what else is most of a drow to do?” The entertained tinge in her voice sounded hollow this time. She walked up and took the bottle from him, sitting on a nearby rock. Astarion furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as she took a sip and played with it on her tongue for much longer than the quality of the wine warranted. She swallowed and sighed deeply before continuing, “Some Eilistreeans found me on the steps of a temple of Lolth. Took me away, raised me as one of the Lady’s own.” She sounded tired in a way Astarion had not heard before, not even when the tadpole threatened to split their skulls open.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know temples of Lolth took children in, seems out of character.” He feigned disinterest.</p>
<p>“They don’t.” Her voice was harsh, final. “They do accept child sacrifices though. Imperfect children drow mothers have no use for. Perfect ones too sometimes, as a punishment to the family.” She paused for a long instant, before carrying on. “That’s how I know, you see. There are enough tiefling slaves in the Underdark, but none would abandon their children in such a place. That and looking like this at my age…”</p>
<p>“Your age?” Astarion asked in slight disbelief.</p>
<p>She laughed lightly then hummed in approval. That was all the answer he would get, it seemed. She was a curious creature, he thought, but he wasn’t in much of a position to pry further. They passed the bottle silently between them until she spoke again.</p>
<p>“I was one of the lucky ones. Those people, and the Goddess, gave me a chance at life.”</p>
<p>“And the freedom to live it.” Astarion replied bitterly. Lucky indeed, to get a second chance with no strings attached. Or at least with strings one could live with without turning into a monster. “How would they feel, I wonder, to see you squander that precious time they bought you on soon-to-be mind-flayers and already-vampires?” his voice was a mix of despondency and defiance that Nowhere had come to associate exclusively with him. A few days ago, she would have reached out, ignored the words in favour of the cry for help underneath. But today, she knew that with Astarion it was better to take things at face value, go only as deep as he invited her too.</p>
<p>“We’re not any more forsaken than that helpless baby in the Underdark. Not yet anyway. They can hardly fault me for trying to give us a chance, no?”. The chipper tone in her voice was back and it made the bitterness inside Astarion swell. How could she be so naïve? So blind?</p>
<p>“That lot, maybe.” He spoke, nodding towards the camp. “But <em>some of us</em> are the very definition of forsaken.”</p>
<p>“Well,” she mused, standing up and turning to face him, “that is the beauty of freedom, I suppose. You’re free to do the right thing. And to make mistakes. Free to go hunting in the night for moments of beauty. And to share them with whomever you please. Forsaken or not.” She had moved closer to him as she spoke and, with her last words, he could feel her warm breath on his face, as one of her hands moved to gently stroke his cheek and tangle at the ends of his hair. Her touch was gentle and her eyes were brimming with warmth. It was a look he could barely recognise, barely understand, and hardly bear. He wanted to turn away from it or to lash out and make her turn away instead or… He found himself kissing her, hiding from her gaze in her hair, in her skin, in her lips. It was not the kiss he was expecting, the one he had carefully planned to take her breath away, to leave her wanting more, to leave her wanting him. Instead, it was an impulsive, desperate mess. His hands were holding her face in a grip he knew was too tight. His teeth were in the way, his own tongue grazing against his fangs more than once. He couldn’t taste any blood yet, but he attributed that more to luck than skill. It was amateurish at best and yet she didn’t pull away. She joined in wholeheartedly, fingers gripping more tightly at his hair and a hand sneaking under his shirt to rest on his back.</p>
<p>He moved like the touch burned him, throwing his body against the tree behind him, barely giving her enough time to move her hand out of the way. The bark dug painfully into his back, but that felt better than having her touch his scars, know the pain and the shame he carried. He had been prepared to brush it off with a joke about Cazador’s artistic prowess and move on when it inevitably came up. But now her unavoidable pity and worry would ruin everything. Not that he wasn’t doing a marvellous job of that himself, throwing himself at her and the tree with apparently equal abandon. Yet, as soon as his body hit the trunk, hers followed, her hands moving to grip his arms as she pulled herself closer. He slid down and they fell into a tangled heap to the ground, his back still safely against the tree. He felt the world fade away as his mind focused solely on her. She was intoxicating, all soft and warm and tender against the whirlwind of his actions. His fingers tangled in her hair again, the cool softness of it pleasant against the living warmth of her skin. He could feel himself get lost in an embrace he was struggling to understand, when her fingers brushed against the bite marks on the side of his neck and he froze. Unlike the cuts on his back, he couldn’t hide these away. She felt him tense and moved away to stare at him. His eyes were still closed. He refused to see it, whatever was in her eyes. Either the pity he so despised or the warmth that left him feeling empty and desperate and like his heart would implode in his chest. It struck him that disgust was not among the emotions he feared. He didn’t have to look to know it wouldn’t surface in her eyes, no matter how many marks of his monstrosity she discovered. He moved his hand to envelop hers and moved it to his chest. He hoped they would just carry on, but the moment was gone. Instead, he felt her settle against him and bury her face into the other side of his neck. Her hand in his moved to hold his fingers, while her other arm slid behind his back, careful to avoid touching his skin. He was being held in an embrace, loose but present, her every movement controlled and wary. He was being treated like some skittish animal she was trying to tame and how he hated it. His blood boiled in anger and he needed every ounce of his fraying self-control to keep from lashing out. He had brought it on himself, he knew, but how he wished she would have ignored him and allowed him to drown his scars in pleasure. Instead, he could feel them almost throbbing in his skin, alive with shame and pain and impotent anger. Her voice broke through his thought, still smooth and musical, but lower than usual. A dirge where a hymn normally played.</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t these have healed by now? I thought vampire spawns had remarkable regeneration abilities.”</p>
<p>Not the question he expected, although he wasn’t in all honesty certain what that would have been. He opened his eyes, allowing them to focus loosely on the trees, the stream, the stars. Anything but the memories in his mind’s eye.</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t let them heal.” He almost spit it out. “He enjoyed leaving his mark, you see. His seal of ownership.” A painful truth, but one he had spent centuries getting accustomed to. As he found himself on familiar ground, his composure returned. His voice came out more evenly, emotions safely hidden behind biting sarcasm again. He still didn’t quite dare to look at her.</p>
<p>“And these…?” she asked, fingers tapping on his back lightly.</p>
<p>“Those… Those are a poem he carved one night. Many corrections. He was quite proud of the end result.” He finally braved looking at her from the corner of his eye, only to find her not looking at him at all. Her gaze was lost in the distance and her face unreadable. The sigh of relief at not having to deal with her fussing caught in his throat. The look in her milky eyes was something fearsome, a swirl of anger and hatred he did not think her capable of. It wasn’t raging, but cold, calculating and with a tinge of something inescapable. In that moment, he thought, she was every bit the Drow she could have been, if she hadn’t been born without horns and a tail. It didn’t suit her, he found and as she opened her mouth to speak, he found himself raising a finger to her lips.</p>
<p>“Shh, darling. These things are too dark to speak of on such a night. We were on a quest for beauty, weren’t we?” He put on his most charming smile and languorous voice and hoped she would follow his lead. Cazador’s shadow trailed behind his every step, every word, every thought. But maybe he still had the opportunity to stop it from completely souring the evening. While the coldness in her eyes was unabated, her stance relaxed slightly and she moved one hand to caress his cheek as the other escaped his grip to rest once again on the scars on his neck. She smiled and, while it didn’t quite reach her eyes, Astarion could tell it was genuine.</p>
<p>“I think I’ve found it.” she whispered and Astarion couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh at the compliment. It was cheesy and a bit awkwardly executed, but out of all the people to have praised his beauty over the years, he couldn’t think of a more honest one.</p>
<p>“Well, good for you, my dear.” He spoke, resting his head back on the tree behind him, seemingly no longer caring about revealing more of the bite marks under her hand. “Meanwhile, I had been waiting for so long to have you. To see you lose yourself in me…” He had imagined saying those words to her, the last pieces in his well-planned seduction. Now, he chuckled as they passed his lips. “And instead, it seems I am the one who’s been thoroughly had…”. There was a wistfulness in his voice as he said it, closing his eyes against the world again.</p>
<p>“Disappointed?” Nowhere asked, in a mix of amusement and genuine concern, and he could feel her pull away slightly at his side.</p>
<p>He shook his head slowly. “Not in the least, my dear. Not in the least.” A smile pulled at his lips and it felt fresh, lacking its usual smugness and cruel tint. The night was not what he had been expected. She had foiled his attempts at seduction at every step and when she had finally given in to his desperate embrace, he had made a mess of it. He was unfamiliar with such failure, but rather than resent it all he could feel was overwhelming relief that it would have no ill consequences. Or at least not any likely to end in him getting flayed. And, judging by the way Nowhere remained loosely curled around him, fingers gently stroking patterns into the side of his neck, he may even get a second chance at it all.</p>
<p>“Well, we still have a bet to settle. And since it’s still a while before morning, I may take the time to take a bath. Gods know it’s needed after those goblins.” With that Nowhere stood and began making her way to the stream. He found he missed her warmth against his side.</p>
<p>“Marvellous idea, darling. I would join you, but… you know. I guess I’ll just have to keep watch.” He broke into an insinuating grin as his eyes followed her hungrily.</p>
<p>“So long as you remember it’s the treeline you should be watching, not my back.” She winked at him and then started removing her clothes, seemingly unbothered by his stare, which followed each inch of newly revealed skin, smoothly stretched over subtly defined muscles. Nowhere began humming again, but as she did another song seemed to fill his senses. Where hers was upbeat and simple, this melody hung heavy with melancholy, seeping from the grass, the trees, the sky. He unconsciously looked up and then he saw it, a dark figure contoured strikingly against the setting moon, looking back at him. He started to call for Nowhere, but the Dark Dancer smiled at him and the words fell silently from his lips. He knew, suddenly and with complete certitude, that this apparition was for his benefit, not hers. A warning from an overbearing mother, but also a promise – of salvation, of redemption, of freedom. A blink, and the figure was gone, but her song remained, a soft reminder that he was being watched. No, not watched, he realised, but watched over. Astarion didn’t quite know how he felt about that. As largely benevolent as Eilistraee was known to be, he knew better than to believe any creature with power over another would offer anything without a price. That yet again another was trying to exert some form of control over his life put him on edge. He now recognised her influence in the cool veil that had kept his hunger buried at the back of his mind all evening, that had guided him to find beauty in a night he might have otherwise run out of patience for. Her yoke, if that was what it was, was a soothing whisper he had thought he had lost all hope of hearing. As for her price, he thought as his eyes drifted back to Nowhere’s figure, mostly submerged in the fast-flowing stream, her wet hair brightly catching the first rays of dawn, he felt not paying it would almost be the greater struggle. He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind and stood to walk to the bank.</p>
<p>“Well, my dear, I’m afraid you will have to acknowledge that I have won, for I have never seen a more beautiful sight than this morning has graced me with.” His eyes never left her as he spoke and he could see her cheeks warm again. She laughed and sprayed some water in his direction in mock annoyance, too weakly for any drops to actually reach him. He grinned victoriously and found yet another new feeling take root in his heart. He was, for the first time in centuries, looking forward to where the road may lead him.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>